


Disappear When You Come Back

by prettylittlementirosa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlementirosa/pseuds/prettylittlementirosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows now- he wasn’t on the verge of something, he was standing on a precipice, looking back over his shoulder at something that isn’t his, a life he could never have, waiting to be pushed.</p><p>He’d rather just jump.</p><p>-or-</p><p>Stiles is basically a "functioning addict" struggling to cope with his life by engaging in extremely unhealthy/risky behavior. Derek is a big part of the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the summary is such crap but it's hard to explain what's going on without telling you what happens and that just kind of ruins it, I think? Anyways... 
> 
> So the idea for this came to me while [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wh_KJt_y1QU) was playing in the background and I just happened to be scrolling through [this](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/post/98132850377l). And then [this](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/post/93664985582) came up next. And yeah... this fic was born.
> 
> Canon compliant through Season 4 (so, you know, certain characters and relationships aren't ignored).
> 
> WARNINGS. So many warnings. This entire story is just a giant study in how NOT to cope. I didn't use warnings in the tags because I don't want to spoil anything but one of the main themes of the story, discussed over and over again, is death and the associated grief. So, if either of those are a trigger for you, do! not! read! this! Seriously. There's also tons of unhealthy behavior- dangerous/unhealthy sexual activity (i.e. using sex as a means to an end, as a distraction, as a numbing agent, etc. in the form of promiscuity, anonymous sex, rough sex, etc), drug use (both abuse of prescription medications and illicit drugs), lying, isolating oneself, etc.
> 
> So, yeah, triggers everywhere...
> 
> Also, fair warning: in my mind this story does not have a happy ending, it never did. It was always going to end a certain way BUT as I was writing it I just felt like that's such a terrible thing to do?? To not give Sterek a happy ending in fic?? Our poor Sterek shipping hearts have suffered enough as it is. So, there are two endings. If you want the happy ending, only read this first chapter and just end there (it ends in a place that has closure, I promise). But if you want to read the last hundred or so words that was always supposed to be the ending, then continue onto the second chapter.
> 
> Title is from "The Last Time" by Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody (it was the song playing when i first opened up a document to start this and i just never changed the title)

Stiles plows through the doors of the emergency room, doesn’t stop at the front desk or for the nurse that’s shouting after him. There’s no time. It’s been nine minutes since he got the frantic call from Scott, nine minutes since he heard about the accident, nine minutes of his heart falling out of his chest, and a lifetime for him to get here.

A lifetime for him to finally get his happy ending.

For him to realize Derek is his happy ending.

To let himself have this.

Have Derek.

_There’s no time._

He runs through the waiting room full of people, down the hall past the rows of curtained-off beds, and skids to a stop outside the room. The door is closed but through the window he can see Melissa standing over Derek’s body, pressing into his chest rhythmically, with force.

_Push. Push. Push._

Deaton is in the corner, unmoving, watching, and Stiles wants to scream at him to do something, to fix this, to make it okay. But he can’t. There’s no voice in him. There’s nothing in him. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. His lungs are burning and his tongue is heavy and nothing comes out.

_Silence._

He wants to punch through the glass, wants to let them know he’s here, let Derek know he’s here. But he can’t. There’s no fight in him. There’s nothing in him. He raises his fist and it goes nowhere. His hands are shaking and his arm is heavy and his fist goes nowhere.

_Stasis._

It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. He’ll see Derek again, pull Derek’s hand to his lips again, run his fingers through Derek’s hair again. They’ll do the crossword together again- Stiles’ feet in Derek’s lap- just like always.

Stiles will forget to put his wedding band back on after his shower again and Derek’ll bring it to him at work, like always. Derek’ll pretend to be mad and Stiles will apologize and they’ll pretend that’s what the make-up sex is for. They’ll pretend that when Stiles has Derek underneath him, when he’s thrusting in and out slowly and he’s shaking- his thumb stroking Derek’s cheek, when he’s murmuring _I love you_ over and over again- that it’s because he’s sorry for forgetting his ring. They’ll pretend that when Derek is on his back, trembling, one hand fisted in Stiles’ hair, the other clutching at his shoulder, that it’s because he forgives Stiles. They’ll both know that what they’re really saying is I can’t live without this.

I can’t live without you.

Cannot lose you.

Not you.

_Time is running out._

Stiles watches as Melissa’s hands stop moving, watches her whole body sag and her head drop forward. An entire lifetime passes in one second. Every fight, every touch, every look. Every single moment where Derek wrapped himself around Stiles’ heart and made it impossible to beat without him.

Stiles watches as Melissa lifts her head back up, watches her eyes fall closed and her lips rip every unmade memory, every unshared kiss, every last piece of his home away from him.

_Time of death._

\---

Stiles wakes slowly, in increments, reality seeping in like water through his shoes. He’s in bed and he’s alone. The morning sun’s peaking through the curtains, a soft yellow glow dancing through the room, but there’s nobody next to him. Derek isn’t here. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. Derek is dead and Stiles is alone.

_No. That’s not right._ Derek would’ve survived a car accident.

But he’s not here and Stiles can’t apologize for forgetting to wear his ring again.

_No. That’s not right_. Stiles would never take it off in the first place.

Eyes closed, he traces the bare skin of his left ring finger. Nothing. He did forget.

_No. That’s not right_. Stiles isn’t married.

But he loves Derek. Derek is his world. It took him awhile to figure that out but he knows now. He can’t lose Derek.

_No. That’s not right_. He’s not with Derek.

Stiles opens his eyes again. He’s in his bedroom. He’s seventeen and he’s in his bedroom and it was all just a dream. Derek isn’t dead. Stiles didn’t lose him. It wasn’t real.

_It feels real_.

His chest is tight and there’s a wet spot on the pillow from his tears. Heartache lingers, settles heavy in the air like low clouds on a rainy day.

But it was just a dream. Now that he’s awake he can see it. He wasn’t even at the hospital; he was running through the halls of his old elementary school where he met Scott, where his mom baked cookies for the whole class and he brought his dad’s badge for show-and-tell. It wasn’t the hospital.

It was a dream and it wasn’t real but the heartache was.

_Is._

He can’t dwell on it. He has to get ready for school, has to leave to pick Malia up in twenty minutes.

Malia.

His girlfriend. The one he loves. And he does love her. He loves her so much.

He gets ready and heads out. He picks her up, goes to school and then to lacrosse practice. She comes over and they do their homework together. Everything is as it should be. He’s seventeen and he’s not married and he’s not with Derek. Derek is just a person he knows, a person he hasn’t seen in a couple months; a person who left Mexico with his own girlfriend and checks in periodically via text; a person who means nothing to him beyond the year they spent arguing and saving each other’s lives. He does not love Derek, doesn’t even miss him, not really.

Still, the dream lingers, prickles under his skin. He still _feels_ it, the desolation and the agony. He doesn’t remember every detail but he remembers how it felt. At night when he’s lying there trying to fall asleep- Malia wrapped around him- images from the dream start to flash through his mind. It aches in his chest, clenches at his heart. It’s hard to swallow, kind of hard to breath it’s so overwhelming, like a punch to the gut.

It’s the most palpable thing he’s ever felt and it didn’t even happen. It wasn’t even real.

\---

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills in August, when the town’s in the middle of a heat wave- the kind that weighs you down, makes you believe you don’t need water to drown.

Stiles hasn’t had another dream about Derek, has forgotten all about the first, but the moment he walks into Derek’s loft with Scott, sees him there for the first time since Mexico, it all comes flooding back, knocks the wind out of him.

His chest is tight and there’s a lump in his throat. His heart rate must be skyrocketing but neither Scott, nor Derek seem to notice. Maybe they can’t hear it. Maybe there’s nothing to hear. Maybe his heart has stopped beating all together. It feels like someone tore it from his chest. It can’t beat outside of his body. Not for long, anyways.

But Stiles doesn’t love Derek.

He does his best to tamp down the sinking feeling in his stomach- the one that says _I loved you more than anything and you died, now I’m empty_ \- and after a day, it’s gone. Everything returns to normal. He forgets he ever felt anything for Derek- dream or not- besides annoyance and occasional gratitude. Derek reintegrates himself into the pack and Braeden comes with him. Stiles and his friends start their senior year.

Scott grows into his Alpha powers and Liam learns to control the shift. Braeden moves in with Derek and they start fixing up the rest of the building to rent out the units. Kira earns another tail and Isaac returns. Lydia figures out how to isolate the voices and Danny makes his way into the pack. Stiles and Malia’s relationship disintegrates but ultimately they agree it’s for the best. Stiles is going to be moving away for college and Malia is going to need an extra year to graduate.

Danny takes Stiles to Jungle over winter break. On his knees in one of the stalls in the bathroom, Stiles gives his first blow job. He doesn’t know the guy’s name, barely remembers his face but remembers the weight of his cock in his mouth, the way the guy’s head banged back against the wall when Stiles tilted his head to take him deeper.

On New Years Stiles and Malia end up in bed together. It’s familiar and it’s easy. It feels good to just fuck her. To be inside of her and make her come. To use her and be used by her. They don’t get back together.

Over spring break, the pack takes a trip to Lake Havasu. They’ve earned it after everything they’ve been through and it’s quite possibly the last break they’ll all spend together.

Stiles meets a guy named Javier, let’s him open him up in the back of his RAV4, then hammer into him until he can’t even sit down the next day. He pretends like he’s sore from wake boarding and everyone believes him, even Scott. While they’re all off having fun on the boat or lounging on the shore the next day, Stiles goes back to Javier and rims him.

The night before they leave to go back to Beacon Hills and finish out their senior year, he let’s Isaac blow him. They pretend like they’re drunk, even though Isaac can’t get drunk and Stiles hasn’t had a drink all night. They never talk about it again.

During the summer, Stiles alternates between spending time with his dad and spending time with Scott. They’re the two most important people in his life, the two people who have been there through everything, and he’s going to be moving more than two-thousand miles away from them. Danny and Lydia are going too and it’s comforting but it’s not the same thing.

When Scott and his dad are both working, he hangs out with the rest of the pack. He goes with Kira to the comic book store and with Parrish for coffee. Him and Lydia translate the last of the Bestiary and he introduces Mason and Liam to N-64 and Super Smash Bros. He helps Isaac and Derek renovate the building while Braeden is out of town following some lead on the Desert Wolf. Stiles and Malia only fall into bed together once but Malia rakes her human nails down his back deep enough to leave a faint scar. Stiles doesn’t really mind.

In August he moves to Boston with Lydia and Danny for their freshman year of college. It’s not as hard as he expected it to be. He settles into the dorm he’s sharing with Danny just fine; and Skyping with Scott isn’t the same as hanging out with him but it’s enough to keep him sane. He adjusts to college life almost effortlessly. School is surprisingly easy when you’re not in the midst of a supernatural shit storm and the people teaching you actually know what they’re talking about.

Nine weeks into the semester he watches, helpless, as Derek dies in front of him again. It’s not a car accident this time- it’s a hunter shooting an arrow through his heart- but the gut-wrenching despair is there. He wakes up with his heart in his throat, the tips of his fingers feeling like they’re floating up and away from him, like they’re taking everything that’s important with them.

His hands shake for the rest of the day and the feeling lingers for two more. Danny asks him if he’s okay, asks him why he’s not eating, but all he can say is he’s stressed about a paper that’s due. There’s no way to explain that he’s mourning the death of someone who’s still alive, that his heart is missing a piece, maybe missing completely, because someone he loved in a dream took it with them. There’s no way to explain that he _likes_ this feeling. So he doesn’t. He lies and Danny believes him.

They always believe him.

Three weeks later he gets choked on a cock for the first time. In his English professor’s office, the TA holds his face and fucks his mouth and Stiles learns quickly how much he can take before his gag reflex kicks in and even quicker how to open his throat. Learns quickly that he likes the burn, likes having tears stream down his face, and the way even though the come never even hits his tongue, he can taste it for hours after. They pretend like Stiles is doing it for the grade but they both know that Stiles could out-perform almost every single one of his peers without even trying.

When Stiles goes home for Christmas, he learns that Malia is seeing someone new, some freshman from Beacon Hills Community College that’s been tutoring her. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt- if he didn’t wonder if this new girl taught Malia a better system than using different color highlighters- but it’s more of a distant ache, a reaction to the thought of his first love moving on. It doesn’t suck the air from his lungs, doesn’t feel like every last piece of himself is slipping through his fingers. A couple nights of video games with Scott and he’s fine.

He only sees Derek once- on Christmas Eve. They run into each other at the gas station. Derek tells him he looks good, asks why he hasn’t heard from him lately and Stiles doesn’t know what to say because Derek never really heard from him before, at least not outside of other members of the pack or necessity; besides, he hasn’t heard from Derek either.

So he lies, says he’s been busy, that it took some time to adjust to being away from home and that college requires a lot more effort than high school did. He can tell that derek knows he’s lying but Derek doesn’t call him on it, just says, “Stop by the loft before you leave. I have something for you.”

Stiles nods his head, says, “Yeah, sure.”

He doesn’t go to the loft.

The night he gets back to Boston, he has another dream- watches, paralyzed, as a faceless body holds a gun to Derek’s head and pulls the trigger. He feels his own heart stop with Derek’s, then wakes up gasping for air.

It doesn’t matter how many times it happens, he always wakes up thinking that Derek was the love of his life, that he died and left Stiles alone, that Stiles was powerless to stop it. He always wakes up feeling hollow, like the only thing left in him is a gray storm cloud in the cavity of his chest, in the space Derek used to occupy.

He always wakes up wishing he was still in the dream.

In February the Patriots make it to the Superbowl and Boston is buzzing with excitement. Stiles doesn’t care about football but the energy in the city creeps under his skin, makes him want to bleed it out his pores. He doesn’t like the excess buzzing, feels too much like his ADHD sneaking back in. On Superbowl Sunday he greedily deep-throats one of his school’s defensive linemen while the quarterback pounds into him from behind, leaving gratifying bruises on his ass and his hips.

He sleeps better that night than he has in ages. It’s the deep kind of sleep, where you’re still tired when you wake, like you’re not ready to return to reality yet, like your soul drifted so far from your body that it hasn’t made it all the way back by the time you open your eyes.

He watches as the plane Derek just boarded falls out of the sky, crashes to the ocean. He tries to swim out to the burning fuselage as it slowly sinks to the bottom of the sea but he doesn’t make it in time. He watches- treading water in the middle of the ocean- as the last of the plane slips under and no one surfaces.

When he wakes, he’s on his back, his arms and legs spread out, like he’s floating at sea, drifting further and further out. Like Derek is his anchor pulling him, calling to him. Before he opens his eyes, he can still feel the waves undulating underneath him, rocking his body up and down. Three days later he can still feel the current flowing through him, tugging at his heart.

He doesn’t want it to stop.

That summer Ethan comes back to Beacon Hills and Scott accepts him as part of the pack, as long as he plays by Scott’s rules. Danny pretends not to want anything to do with him at first but that only lasts a few weeks before they’re going at it again. Stiles doesn’t hate Ethan anymore, doesn’t even blame him for anything that happened, not really, but he can’t look at him without wondering if Boyd would have liked sitting with them at lunch, if Erica would’ve restored that old Mustang she’s sitting on the hood of in a Facebook picture nobody had the heart to take down.

He thought it would be hard for Lydia to see Ethan too, that she would be reminded of Aiden and that it would hurt, but Lydia’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

Almost everyone.

Stiles spends a lot of that summer at Derek’s loft. After Braeden found the Desert Wolf, she was reinstated as a US Marshal and assigned to a Special Ops Group. Derek couldn’t go with her for training, so Stiles keeps him company. They pretend like that’s the real reason they spend so much time together, that it isn’t because Ethan’s return opens old wounds, that Derek doesn’t keep seeing Boyd’s body go limp from his own hands, that they don’t hear Erica’s laughter echo through the night, that Stiles doesn’t still hear Lydia scream or imagine the look on Scott’s face after Allison took her last breath.

Instead they play Scrabble and throw popcorn at each other, and when the original _Beverly Hills 90210_ makes it to Netflix, they go through all ten seasons, and then start on _Dawson’s Creek_. They don’t tell anybody about their guilty pleasure which means that they usually end up marathoning their shows during the night when the rest of the town is asleep. They always call it a night when the sun starts to peak over the horizon and fill the loft with light.

When the summer ends, Stiles goes back to Boston with Lydia and Danny. The three of them get an off-campus apartment together and Lydia pretends to be mad at the boys when they start filling the apartment with used furniture they find at thrift stores and the occasional piece-of-crap from Ikea.

Stiles takes a biology class and gets a lab partner- a petite girl named Resham that looks like she’d have no qualms about snapping someone’s neck if they pissed her off. Two weeks into the semester, on the floor of her living room, she pushes him down onto his back and sits on his face. She pulls at his hair, moves her hips in circles, and says things like “fuck, yeah, yeah, right there, don’t stop,” while he gropes at her thighs and massages her clit with his tongue, occasionally dipping down lower, greedily trying to taste more of her. After she comes on his face, she pulls him to his feet and tells him to fuck her against the wall. So he does.

It’s good. It feels good. She wears him out and he’s not sure how such a small person can contain so much energy, can be so strong, until he’s fucking her from behind one afternoon and he sees it reflected in one of the brass posts of the bed frame. Her eyes flash blue, just for a second, and he knows. As he’s coming, he pants out, “Wolf.” In seconds, she has him pinned face down on the bed, her claws puncturing the back of his neck slightly.

They never talk about it again- what she is and how he knows- but they don’t stop fucking and now that he knows he’s not strong enough to hurt her, he doesn’t hold back. She never lets go completely but she leaves bruises and scratches on him and his muscles are unremittingly sore.

They let people think they’re dating, that they actually care about each other beyond their bodies, that they matter to one another at all. It’s easier that way and he doesn’t have to explain to Danny and Lydia why she’s naked in their apartment so often. He doesn’t tell them she’s a werewolf but he suspects Lydia knows anyway, wonders if she knows who turned Resham’s eyes blue, if she’s heard their voice.

He watches Derek die two more times- once at the bare hands of Kate and once engulfed in flames. Both times he wakes up with a lump in his throat that sticks around for days and wants to claw his heart out of his chest. Unlike before, he doesn’t feel empty. It feels like his heart is expanding into his lungs, up into his throat, down to his stomach, like it’s going to explode right out of him and _then_ leave him empty. He sits on the floor of his shower, knees pulled tight to his chest, and sobs into the deluge. He turns the wedding ring that isn’t there around and around on his finger, and hopes the feeling lasts.

In October Scott tells him that Derek moved to Louisiana to be with Braeden, that he left Isaac in charge of his building. Stiles laughs out loud thinking about Isaac managing the tenants. He doesn’t think about the fact that he hasn’t talked to Derek since summer, that when he goes home for winter break, Derek won’t be there.

He doesn’t go home for winter break.

When spring semester starts, he tells everybody that him and Resham broke-up, doesn’t feel like explaining that because they’re no longer lab partners, they don’t have a reason to spend time together.

Scott comes to visit during spring break, says he’s been thinking about Allison a lot lately, that it’s been hard. Stiles holds him as he breaks down into tears in the middle of the kitchen, pretends like he doesn’t know how it feels to lose the person you look around the room for, the person who sets your skin on fire just because they’re near. Pretends like he doesn’t know that it’s worse when you can’t feel them anymore, when they’ve been gone for so long that you stop looking.

They spend the rest of the break eating Hot Pockets and playing Call of Duty. It’s nice to just do nothing and Scott’s laughing by the time he leaves for the airport to go back to Beacon Hills. Stiles feels better knowing that Scott’s going to be okay, that he is okay.

Stiles doesn’t want to be okay.

He spends the rest of the semester fucking his way across campus and through coffee shops, trying to wear himself out, to find the kind of tired that he feels in his bones, hoping that he’ll slip into a sleep deep enough to bring him back to a place where he loves Derek, where he loses Derek, where nothing will ever be okay again and he’ll never make it out of the dark, where he won’t want to.

He gets a summer internship in San Francisco- mostly just filing papers- so that he can go home to Beacon Hills during the break but doesn’t have to actually spend too much time there. His father and Melissa decide to move in together, into Melissa’s house because it’s bigger but Stiles suspects it’s also because the Stilinski house is filled with memories of his mother.

Nobody wants to live with a ghost.

He helps his father clear out the attic, the garage, the side of the walk-in closet neither of them ever touch. He holds the only pieces of his mom he still has left, clutches them close and inhales, then drops them into a box and donates them to the church on Second Street. The only thing he keeps is the ratty old pillowcase she refused to get rid of, the one she made them bring to the hospital and put on one of the pillows there, the one she took her last breath lying on. It’s worn, the tiny pink flowers almost invisible everywhere except the very edges. Stiles doesn’t tell his dad he kept it, just throws it into a box of things from his bedroom that they’re going to store in Melissa’s attic. He’ll never get used to it being Melissa’s _and_ his dad’s.

Toward the end of the summer, Braeden gets a few days of vacation, so her and Derek pay a visit to Beacon Hills. At a pack barbecue at Melissa’s house, Stiles notices the diamond on Braeden’s left ring finger. He doesn’t ask about it. The next day on the commute to his internship in San Francisco, he stops at a gas station and let’s the attendant- some kid whose name tag reads _Blake_ \- bend him over a metal chair covered in paint splotches in the storage room.

While he’s filing papers, he gets a text from Scott saying they’re all going out to a bar later. Stiles lies- tells him he’s exhausted, he’s just going to crash when he gets home, maybe next time.

The night before Derek and Braeden fly back to Louisiana, Derek texts him, asks him to come downstairs to the back door. It’s three in the morning and Stiles wants to ignore it but he knows there’s no point. Derek can hear that he’s awake and got the text. He throws on the first shirt he can find- the one he was wearing at the gas station- and goes downstairs.

Derek’s standing on the back porch, hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky. He doesn’t look when Stiles opens the door and steps outside to join him, just says, “I feel the moon here stronger than anywhere else.” Stiles doesn’t know if “here” means Beacon Hills or on Melissa’s back porch, doesn’t ask. He doesn’t say anything at all, just crosses his arms over his chest and waits for Derek to explain why he asked Stiles to come outside in the middle of the night.

Derek doesn’t, just stands there, staring up at the moon, then says, “Have a good night, Stiles,” and takes off. He doesn’t look at Stiles once.

In the fall, Stiles takes a course on criminal psychology, makes it his mission to get his supposedly-straight professor’s cock in his mouth. He sits in the front row and makes a lot of eye contact, enjoys when Dr. Ramos hesitates to look away- wonders if it’s because he’s not used to his students looking back during lectures or if it’s something else.

A few weeks in, Stiles starts sitting lower in his seat, splays his legs wide and drums his left fingers on his inner thigh, smirks when his professor’s eyes linger too long. During the midterm, he notices out of the corner of his eye that Dr. Ramos is watching him chew on his pen.

During the next lecture, he wears his tightest pair of pants, sits even lower in his chair, legs spread even wider, and imagines what his professor’s cock tastes like, how it looks throbbing and covered in spit. He let’s himself get hard, doesn’t try to conceal it. Once he’s sure Dr. Ramos has noticed the bulge that’s stretching down his thigh, he starts palming himself excruciatingly slowly, makes sure nobody around him will see what he’s doing, bites down on his fist to keep from making any noise. Dr. Ramos finishes his lecture early, asks Stiles to come to his office hours the next day.

Stiles wears gray sweatpants to his professor’s office, knocks on the door and takes a seat when Dr. Ramos lets him in. Dr. Ramos doesn’t sit in the chair behind his desk. Instead he sits on the edge of the desk, in front of Stiles, starts talking to him about his midterm. Stiles licks his lips, thinks about slipping out of the chair onto his knees, about feeling Dr. Ramos’ cock in the back of his throat, and when he’s half-hard, starts palming himself through his sweatpants.

“What are you doing, Mr. Stilinski?” his professor asks but Stiles doesn’t answer, just wraps his hand around his now completely hard cock and starts working it up and down, stares at Dr. Ramos and bites his lip. When Dr. Ramos doesn’t tell him to stop, when he grips the edge of the desk and watches, Stiles starts moaning softly, tells him how good it feels, how he wants to make him feel that good. Then he does drop to his knees, mouths at Dr. Ramos through his pants, and when Dr. Ramos doesn’t protest, he unzips him and pulls him out, immediately takes him all the way down, urges him to fuck his face.

“I’m not gay, you know,” Dr. Ramos says as he’s zipping his pants back up, after he’s come all over Stiles’ face. Stiles just smirks.

Within a few weeks Dr. Ramos is fucking him in the back seat of his Prius in the empty Target parking lot at two in the morning, rimming him in his office, having him sit through class with a plug in. On the last day of the semester- Stiles bent over his desk, cheeks spread wide, Dr. Ramos drumming into him from behind- a woman walks in.

Stiles didn’t know his professor was married.

He spends the winter break in Beacon Hills, hanging out with the pack and with his dad, pretending like he didn’t just seduce his professor, didn’t just break up a marriage. He smiles and tells his dad all the things he knows he wants to hear- school is going great, he’s learning a lot, he’s dating, just hasn’t met anyone special yet. He tells himself that he doesn’t care that Derek’s not in Beacon Hills anymore, that he doesn’t feel his absence at all, doesn’t even notice it. He spends the entire winter break lying and everyone believes him.

They always believe him.

When he gets back to Boston, he needs to watch Derek die again, needs to _feel_ it. He goes to the doctor, starts spewing bullshit about how he can’t sleep, how insomnia is ruining his life, gets the doctor to write him a prescription for Ambien. The first night he takes the prescribed dose and sleeps hard, but he doesn’t dream. The next night he takes double the prescribed dose. He dreams but not about Derek. He dreams he’s on a merry-go-round, spinning around and around, faster and faster, the world blurring by. He can’t make out anything or anyone but he’s scared, terrified he’s not going to be able to get off, that he’ll either fall or he’ll be stuck spinning forever. He hears his mom’s voice, hears her tell him that he just has to let go, that she’ll catch him. He lets go and wakes up before he can find out if she caught him.

He knows she caught him.

He takes double the dose again, hoping that this time he’ll get back to a world where he has Derek, where he loves Derek, where Derek leaves him empty. It works. He holds Derek in his arms, watches as the light goes out of his eyes, feels him take his last breath and all he can do is sob into Derek’s hair, beg him to come back to him, to come home and sleep next to him, to hand him a cup of coffee in the morning, to poke his head into the shower so that Stiles can grab him and pull him in with him, so that he can bury his face in Derek’s neck while the water comes down on them.

The pain of feeling the life go out of Derek is crushing, feels like the world is collapsing in on him. It’s brutal and enduring, riveting and dulling all at the same time. It’s the only thing Stiles wants to feel.

He chases that soul crushing weight and the Ambien leads him to it for awhile, but not forever.

Before summer starts, Stiles gets a job waiting tables so that he has an excuse to stay in Boston, a reason to not go home. He rents out Lydia’s and Danny’s rooms to some students staying on campus for summer classes. They’re quiet people, keep mostly to themselves, and clean up their messes.

On a warm Tuesday night- after he takes a shower to wash off the grime from waiting tables all day- as he’s pulling a shirt on, there’s a knock at his front door. He doesn’t hear either of his roommates’ doors open, so he goes to answer it. It’s Derek, who doesn’t say anything, just holds up a box set of _Dawson’s Creek_ with a small smile. Stiles moves aside to let him in.

He wakes up at four in the morning to the menu screen playing on a loop. Derek’s asleep next to him on his back, one arm curled around Stiles’ shoulders, the other pillowing his own head. Stiles turns the tv off and burrows back into his spot right up against Derek’s side. He falls asleep breathing in the scent of laundry detergent that lingers on Derek’s shirt, the faint _thump thump thump_ of Derek’s heart beating in his ear. The next time he wakes up, Derek’s gone- the box set on his dresser the only evidence that Derek was even there. Doesn’t know why Derek was there, why he was in Boston or why he showed up at Stiles’ door, why he left without saying goodbye.

Without saying anything.

Two weeks later, during their weekly Skype chat, Scott tells him that Derek is back in Beacon Hills without Braeden, says they’re still together though, trying the long distance thing. Stiles doesn’t tell him that he can still smell Derek on his pillow, that waking up after losing Derek in a dream, surrounded by the fading scent of him, is the most gut-wrenching thing he’s ever felt.

The best thing he’s ever felt.

In September, Isaac marries his long-time girlfriend, Tiana. Stiles, Danny, and Lydia fly out for the weekend. Stiles brings the _Dawson’s Creek_ box set with him and spends the first night there with his feet in Derek’s lap, chucking popcorn at his head and pretending to watch Joey tell Pacey she doesn’t want to be let off his hook.

After he lobs what must be the hundredth piece of popcorn, Derek grabs him by the ankles, pulls so that Stiles is flat on his back. He hovers over him, one hand planted on the arm of the couch behind Stiles’ head, his knees on either side of Stiles’ leg, then shoves a handful of popcorn in Stiles’ mouth.

Stunned, Stiles stares up at him, blinks a few times, then starts laughing, watches the competitive look in Derek’s eyes give way to something closer to fondness. Instead of going back to his position at the other end of the couch, Derek pushes Stiles on his side, slides in behind him. He stays like that for the rest of the night- the tip of his nose grazing Stiles’ neck, fluttering in Stiles’ stomach.

Derek falls asleep like that and Stiles wants to stay, wants to go to sleep wrapped in Derek, breathe him in, but he doesn’t want his dad to wake up and find him gone, doesn’t want to answer questions about where he’s been. He peels himself away from Derek’s sleeping body, goes back to Melissa’s before the sun comes up, and gets in a few hours of sleep before spending the day helping Scott set up for the wedding.

During the ceremony he sits in the pews, Lydia on his left and Derek on his right. As Tiana reaches the end of the aisle and the guests sit back down, Derek leans in, his finger brushing up against Stiles’ on the bench, whispers, “You were gone when I woke up.”

Stiles turns to look at him, searches his eyes for the question he knows Derek’s asking; when they hear Isaac’s voice, they both look back to the front of the church.

They watch Isaac and Tiana exchange vows that sound suspiciously like the lyrics to _Skinny Love_. Derek doesn’t move his hand from it’s point of contact with Stiles’ and Stiles feels like his entire body is on fire, the tip of Derek’s finger the spark. It feels like he’s on the verge of something, of grasping something that’s only ever been fleeting before, something he keeps letting slip through his fingers.

At the ceremony, he watches from across the room as Braeden walks into the banquet hall and sneaks up behind Derek, slips her hands over his eyes and surprises him. She’s laughing, looks like the light at the end of a long dark tunnel. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d say Derek’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He knows better.

Stiles watches them head to the dance floor with all the other couples, watches Derek wrap his arms around her waist- her arms around his neck- watches them sway together as _This Year’s Love_ blares from the speakers, loses his breath when Derek looks at him over her shoulder. Feels paralyzed by how beautiful Derek really is, how beautiful Derek and Braeden are together, how good she’s been for him, how Stiles could never be what he deserves. It hits him then- standing there with their eyes locked- Braeden still in Derek’s arms- the realization that he doesn’t just love Derek in his dreams, not anymore.

He loves the way Derek has always been able to make him crazy, make him feel _something_ , make him feel it deep in his soul. Loves the look of determination Derek gets when someone messes with somebody he cares about, the way he sets his jaw, determined to do what he thinks is right, even if turns out to be wrong. Loves the way Derek’s face goes soft every time he says Cora’s name, the way he can be completely selfish while doing the most selfless things. Loves the way Derek engages him, humors him, plays along even if he rolls his eyes doing it. Loves the way it took no time at all to feel like he knew Derek, the way it felt like he had always known him, and how, deep down inside, he knew he trusted him, even though he fought against it. Loves the way Derek always shows up, always comes back, and the way that no matter how much time has passed between them, it always feels the same, always feels like coming home.

He knows now- he wasn’t on the verge of something, he was standing on a precipice, looking back over his shoulder at something that isn’t his, a life he could never have, waiting to be pushed.

He’d rather just jump.

The next time he watches Derek die, it’s supposed to be him. They have him, they’re ready to sacrifice him, knife to his throat, and Derek cries- begs- to take Stiles’ place. Says, “Use me instead” and they do. Stiles watches them raise the knife to Derek’s throat, watches Derek’s mouth say, “No regrets,” watches his body fall to the ground.

He wakes up trembling, feeling so empty that he thinks he could float. He wants to float, wants to feel his body drift up as the world spins on beneath him, wants to remind the clouds how to rain, how to wash away the pain for everyone else, drown himself in it. 

It’s the only thing that feels real to him anymore. Everything else feels like he’s just going through the motions, but that heartache- the agony of losing Derek in his dreams- is absolutely fucking riveting. It’s like watching all the episodes of a show or finishing an amazing book and not being ready for it to be over, still wanting to be in that world. It’s the only thing he can feel but it’s just a dream; a dream where he has Derek and Derek dies, where he feels like he’s shattering under the weight of it and drifting away all at the same time.

He can’t let that feeling go.

He starts with the Ambien again but it’s not long before it stops working- the effects completely dulled from overuse. It should scare him- the depths he’s sunk to, the lengths he’ll go to- but it’s not rock bottom and he wants to feel rock bottom, wants to feel everything that matters to him yanked away, wants to be left with nothing, no reason to get out of bed.

A guy from work introduces him to Ketamine, shows him how to dust it over his gums and under his tongue, how to get it to absorb directly into his bloodstream. At night before Stiles goes to bed he dabs it inside his mouth, then lies down and waits to fall asleep, to feel the full depths of his despair.

For months he watches Derek die over and over again, feels his heart shatter into a billion pieces every single time, like unexpected exhalations of sorrow hitting him at full force, sending the pieces of his life falling to the ground around him.

He wakes up one night fully-dressed, laying in a shower that’s not his, with tepid water pouring down on him. A voice he recognizes says, “You’re a fucking idiot.” He looks up to see Resham standing over him, arms crossed over her chest. He doesn’t argue.

She threatens to tell Lydia if he doesn’t stop. He’s pretty sure Lydia already knows something’s wrong; he can see it written all over her face every time she looks at him. But she never says anything, never brings it up, just squeezes his hand when they’re sitting on the couch next to each other, brushes his arm when she walks past him. Stiles agrees anyway though, knows this will eventually stop working too, might as well save his dad the shame of an overdose.

Stiles, Lydia and Danny graduate in May. Their parents, Scott, Ethan, and Malia fly out for the ceremony. It’s a good day- everyone’s smiling, they’re all proud. They have a celebratory dinner before everyone flies back home to Beacon Hills, leaving the recent grads to pack up their things. They’re all heading back to the west coast- Lydia for graduate school at Berkeley, Danny for a job in Palo Alto, and Stiles for one in San Francisco.

The night before they fly home- boxes already shipped back- Stiles walks across the street to the convenience store to get a bag of chips. When he comes back he finds Derek standing on the stoop outside of the building. All he can do is hold the already open bag out to Derek, offer him some. Derek smiles, fond, shakes his head. He stares at Stiles for a minute, working his jaw, then says, “You know, I really thought you would trip crossing that stage.”

Before he can even process what Derek’s telling him, Stiles says, “Who says I didn’t?”

Derek looks at him, really looks at him, searches his face for a moment, then says, “I’ll see you at home, Stiles” and walks off into the night.

Stiles doesn’t go home.

He returns his ticket to San Francisco International, buys one to Heathrow instead; wishes Danny good luck, tells Lydia he loves her, sends her home with a letter to give to his dad saying that he’s sorry, that he needs to figure some things out, that he’ll check-in, let him know he’s okay. Lydia almost fights him on it; he can see it in her eyes, but ultimately she just nods, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

Stiles walks away before he can see them fall.

He spends the next year making his way across Europe with only a backpack on his shoulders, works odd jobs to pay his way, makes sure to send a postcard to his dad every week, one to Scott every other week. He keeps to himself mostly except for the periodic one night stand, doesn’t form any attachments, doesn’t want a reason to stick around anywhere for too long.

He watches Derek die a thousand times, a thousand different ways, feels it in his gut, in his bones every single time, and before he’s even caught his breath, he remembers that Derek isn’t his to love, isn’t his to lose, and feels his heart rip from his chest all over again.

He’s working the grounds at an Inn in a small town on the shores of the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland when he has his last dream. Derek’s lying on the ground, slowly fading, and Stiles has to make a choice, but Derek makes it for him, tells him to go, to save Scott, and Stiles listens. He looks back at Derek one last time, then leaves him for dead.

He wakes up screaming, gasping for air that isn’t coming. It’s the first panic attack he’s had since high school. When he can finally breathe again, can pull himself up, he gets a phone and calls home. “I’m not okay, Scotty,” he rasps out. He spends the next eighteen hours curled in a ball on the floor, waiting for Scott.

Scott gets there in the middle of the night, drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Stiles, lets him sob into his chest while he rocks him back and forth. They stay like that all night, and in the morning Stiles tells him everything- tells him about the dreams and the things he did to slip back into them, doesn’t spare any details. When he’s done, Scott looks like he wants to tell him something but thinks better of it, instead says, “We’ll get through this.”

Because it’s Scott, Stiles believes him.

When they get back to California, the first thing Scott does is take Stiles to a doctor outside of Beacon Hills, wants to make sure he didn’t do any permanent physical damage. The doctor does a full work-up and tells him that he needs to put on some weight but other than that he should be fine.

Stiles moves in with Scott. It’s a one-bedroom apartment and he says he’s fine on the couch but he ends up falling asleep in Scott’s bed most nights anyways, just like when they were kids.

They agree that nobody else needs to know the details of what happened- just that Stiles had a hard time coping with the weight of everything that’s happened, that he lost himself for awhile. They also agree that sending Stiles to a therapist is pointless because Stiles knows how to tell them what they want to hear, knows how to lie convincingly, but Scott makes him talk about it with him all the time, asks him about it every single day, usually several times a day. Stiles is pretty sure that Scott also starts sniffing him on a regular basis- presumably checking for drugs or even the scent of a stranger mixed with his but he doesn’t mind because there’s nothing to hide, and he’s grateful for everything that Scott has done for him, everything he’s doing for him. And talking about it, saying it out loud to someone he trusts, someone he knows loves him unconditionally, it helps.

At first, Stiles doesn’t really see anybody else. He’s pretty sure Scott tells everyone to give him space, to wait for him to be ready, because Scott knows him better than anybody and knows that overwhelming him won’t help, that that much guilt at once will eat him up.

His dad doesn’t stay away but he doesn’t hover either and the only two questions he asks are _Are you going to be okay?_ and _Is there anything I can do?_ Stiles answers honestly. _Eventually_ and _Just don’t give up on me_.

After a couple of weeks, Scott starts giving him updates on the rest of the pack, just slipping them in here and there. Lydia’s blowing Berkeley away with her brilliance. Danny decided to end his contract with the company in Palo Alto early, and in a few months he’ll be back in Beacon Hills to start his own company. Ethan’s waiting for him to be back and settled and then he’s going to propose. Kira transferred from grad school in New York to San Francisco. She likes the city but doesn’t like being that far away from the pack. Isaac is close to finishing his nursing degree and Tiana is almost finished with her emissary training. Malia finally went to South America to meet Cora and ended up liking it there so much she decided to stay an extra couple months. Parrish bought a house, a fixer-upper that he spends all of his free time working on. Mason and Liam are still doing well at San Diego State and are going to graduate next year. Argent still comes back to Beacon Hills at least once every other month, makes sure to have dinner with the pack, asks Isaac when he’s going to give him grandkids, asks Scott when he’s going to give him another daughter- or son-in-law. Jackson called Danny up out of the blue, after five years of radio silence. Scott doesn’t know why and isn’t going to ask. Braeden was promoted to Chief Deputy and re-located to Arlington.

Scott doesn’t say anything about Derek. Stiles figures that’s probably for the best, doesn’t think he’s ready to know if Derek went to Arlington or if they’ve set a date for the wedding, if maybe the wedding already happened. He’s not sure if it would make things worse or help him accept reality quicker. He’s ready to let go of what he had with Derek in his dreams but it’s another thing to know Derek’s never actually going to love him back.

After about a month, Stiles slowly starts to reintegrate himself into the pack. He spends time with them one-on-one at first, then in smaller groups. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. He doesn’t know what to say or do, feels like he should apologize, _does_ apologize to Lydia and Danny for everything they put up with in Boston, for everything he knows he put them through, for stuff he can’t even remember. He still doesn’t see Derek and nobody brings him up. He wonders if they know how big a role Derek played in his downward spiral or if it’s just a topic Scott told them to avoid.

Over time, being around the pack gets easier and eventually it’s like he never cut himself off from them, from reality. Once Stiles is ready to let the pack be there for him again, Scott tells him that what he went through, what he was feeling, what he’s _still_ feeling is the nemeton- the darkness around his heart. He says that when Stiles didn’t come back to Beacon Hills after graduation, Scott went to Deaton. Deaton told him they assumed that shutting the doors to their minds and defeating the nogitsune would defeat the darkness in them, but they were wrong. They’ll never truly defeat it. It’s always going to be there.

Scott says he stills feel it every day, that when it got to be too much for him, he went to see Stiles in Boston and that’s what got him through; tells Stiles that the only way to get through it is to let the people who love him be there for him.

It should be upsetting- knowing that the darkness he feels prickling at his edges, the thing threatening to pull him under, is always going to be there, but it isn’t. It’s comforting in its own way, like a reminder that his friends are always going to be there, that they’re always going to pull him back from the edge. It helps him start to put the pieces of his life back together.

He gets a job at the community college writing grants. It’s not ideal but it’s not the worst either. It’s fairly low stress and he doesn’t have to punch in and out, can come in late if he needs to, or not at all if it’s a particularly bad day, just as long as he gets everything done on time.

Scott finds a two-bedroom apartment for them. Stiles gets the boxes from Melissa’s house that he shipped from Boston before he left for Europe. One of the boxes from his old house gets mixed in with them and as Stiles is unpacking his things in the new apartment, he comes across his mom’s old pillowcase. It hurts and he cries but it’s good, like a powerful blast of reality, the kind that says _you’re alive and you’re going to be okay_.

Over the next several months he thinks about that final dream he had of Derek a lot- the one that wasn’t so much a dream as it was a memory- but he gets better, he does well. He puts most of his weight back on, the dark circles under his eyes go away, his lips stop cracking and peeling constantly, and when he laughs, he means it. The only drug he takes is a round of antibiotics that Liam’s dad prescribes for a cough that won’t go away; the only sex he has is with his own hand.

It’s a Thursday when he sees Derek for the first time. Stiles leaves work early, having finished everything he needed to, and decides to cook something- a real dinner for Scott to come home to. He goes to the grocery store and Derek’s there- just standing in the produce section like he belongs there, like he didn’t make Stiles fall in love with him with his infuriating presence and his stupid nineties era teen dramas, like he didn’t rip Stiles to pieces every time he just showed up without an explanation and then disappeared like he knew it wasn’t the end, like it was always going to come to this- to Derek looking at tomatoes and taking Stiles breath away.

Stiles stands there, frozen, telling himself to turn around and walk away, that he’s not ready for this, but it doesn’t matter. He can tell the moment that Derek realizes he’s there, sees the way Derek freezes, the way he takes a few breaths in, before looking up, straight at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he’s terrified and surprised all at once. Stiles has to lean on the cart in front of him to keep himself upright. Without thinking, he starts to rub his thumb over the space where there’d be a ring in his dreams. When all his thumb meets is skin, he realizes what he’s doing and can’t help but check Derek’s hand too- no ring, not yet.

Derek starts walking over and by the time he gets there, Stiles is breathing heavy, can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“You look good,” Derek says and Stiles wants to tell him that he does too but he can’t bring himself to form any words, can’t bring himself to do anything but stare back and try to keep breathing; besides, Derek isn’t the one with a darkness around his heart, of course he looks good.

“How are you?” Derek tries and all Stiles can manage is a small nod.

Derek smiles tightly. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to- I thought you’d still be at work. I’ll just-” He starts to walk past Stiles and instinctively, Stiles grabs his arm, rasps, “I thought you’d be in Arlington.”

Derek stops, turns his head to Stiles but doesn’t look at him, looks down at the ground, says, “It was good to see you, Stiles,” then walks away, let’s Stiles hand slide down his arm as he goes, turns his hand to brush his fingers over Stiles’ but doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t look back.

It takes Stiles a full fifteen minutes to get his legs to work, to carry himself out of the store; his hands are still shaking when he gets to his car, shake the entire way to the Animal Clinic. When he gets there, he bursts through the doors of the examination room, says, “I just saw Derek.”

Scott looks up from where he’s stitching an incision on the belly of a sleeping dog. “How do you feel?”

“Like a million bucks. How do you think?”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I want to fuck someone so hard I pass out and dream about Derek dying, but I came here instead.”

Scott smiles reassuringly. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised that Stiles just saw Derek.

“You already knew I ran into him, didn’t you?” Stiles asks.

Scott goes back to stitching. “He called me twenty minutes ago to let me know.”

“Okay. Look, Scott, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I mean it. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for you, but it feels like you still have the kid gloves on, like I still have ‘fragile’ tattooed across my forehead. I need you to tell me the truth, Scott. Why are you trying so hard to shield me from Derek?”

Scott stops stitching again, looks up. “I’m not trying to shield you from Derek. I _was_ trying to keep you from ignoring the problem and drowning yourself in him. I didn’t want you to just replace the dreams with the real thing.”

“Kinda hard to do that when the real thing is in love with somebody else.”

“They broke up,” Scott says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like it’s old news.

“What? Why?” Stiles asks, a million more questions racing through his mind.

“You should go talk to Derek.”

“I thought you didn’t want me drowning myself in him and ignoring the problem,” Stiles says.

“You won’t. You came here, didn’t you?” Scott says. Then, adds, “He’s at the loft.”

The drive to the loft feels like the longest and shortest trip he’s ever made. When he gets there he sits in his car, drums his fingers on the steering wheel, contemplates just leaving, but he trusts Scott and if Scott thinks he’s ready, thinks he should talk to Derek, he believes him.

He chooses to take the stairs, give himself more time, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no amount of time that could prepare him to have this conversation- whatever it may be- with Derek. When he gets to the top, the door’s already open and Derek is leaning against the frame, like he’s just been waiting for Stiles, like he knew Stiles would come.

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to say; so he just walks up, stands in front of Derek, waits for him to say something, to do something.

Derek doesn’t move, just watches him, his chest rising and falling like he’s having as hard a time breathing as Stiles is. After what feels like forever, he pushes off the door frame, lets Stiles into the loft. Derek sits on the couch but Stiles stays standing, feels like he needs to be ready to bolt at any moment. He’s not sure what’s about to happen but he knows it’s going to be big, can feel it in his gut.

“I didn’t go to Arlington because Braeden and I broke-up,” Derek starts.

When he doesn’t say anything else, Stiles prompts, “Because?”

“Because I’m in love with somebody else. I have been for a really long time.”

It hits Stiles like a ton of bricks. He knew when he came here that Derek probably wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to hear but he didn’t think it’d be this, didn’t think he’d hear that Derek’s in love with someone else, didn’t think he’d feel the world crumble beneath his feet again so soon. All he can do is look down at the ground beneath him, remind himself that the world isn’t actually falling apart, that he’ll be okay, that he _wants_ to be okay.

As he’s blinking back tears, Derek continues. “I don’t know when it happened, somewhere between being trapped in a pool for two hours and watching teen soap operas I guess.”

Stiles’ head shoots up, heart skips a beat.

Derek stands. “I just didn’t realize it until the day I woke up expecting you to be next to me and you were gone.”

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. “Isaac’s wedding.”

Derek walks over to him, nods. “Isaac’s wedding.”

When he gets to him, he swipes his thumb across Stiles’ cheek, wipes away the tears that have fallen, then brushes their lips together. It’s so soft it’s almost nothing but Stiles feels it through his whole body; it tingles at his scalp, shoots sparks down his spine all the way to his toes. His hands come up and clutch at Derek’s shirt, trembling, and he presses their foreheads together, trying to catch his breath.

Derek slides his hands down to Stiles’ neck, whispers, “I don’t want to be let off your hook.”

Stiles surges in, presses their mouths together, tries to fit eight years into a single kiss. Derek kisses him back with just as much fire behind it, wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, holds on tight; and by the time they break away, they’re both panting, eyes red, cheeks tear-stained.

Stiles spends the rest of the night telling Derek everything. He starts at the beginning- tells him about seeing Melissa call time of death, tells him about all the other dreams, about the way they made him feel, about all the things he did to feel that way again and again. He doesn’t leave anything out, doesn’t spare any detail, can tell it’s hard for Derek to hear- especially the parts where he was with other people, with strangers- but he knows he has to tell him, knows Derek needs to hear it. It’s the only way for them to move forward together. He’s terrified that once Derek knows the truth he won’t want Stiles anymore but it’s a chance he has to take. He can’t pretend like those things never happened, like he’s not still struggling with the darkness, and if that’s too much for Derek then Stiles will have to accept that, will have to figure out a way to move forward without him.

It’s not too much for Derek.

After they finish talking about what Stiles was doing all those years, Derek tells him what they were like for him, about the way he had been holding onto something, something he couldn’t let go of; how he thought it was Beacon Hills, thought it was the town he couldn’t stay away from; how every time he tried to let go, he just couldn’t. Tells Stiles about all the times he tried and failed to let go of _him_ \- how he still has one of Stiles’ shirts, how he was supposed to give it back to him that first Christmas after Stiles left for college but was relieved when Stiles didn’t come to get it, wanted to keep a piece of him, even if he didn’t know why at the time.

Tells him about how he thought moving to Louisiana would make it easier to let go, tells him that it didn’t make a difference, that the night he showed up at Melissa’s and asked Stiles to come outside, he was there to say goodbye- once and for all- to let go, that he smelled someone else on Stiles and couldn’t do it.

Tells Stiles how he missed him every single day, how he finally figured out that it wasn’t Beacon Hills he couldn’t let go of- it was him- that he figured out Stiles was his home when he woke up and Stiles wasn’t there, when they sat in the church and watched their friends get married and he knew that it was Stiles he wanted to stand up there with one day.

Tells Stiles how he broke up with Braeden that night, how she wasn’t surprised, said she had started to figure out Beacon Hills wasn’t the problem, someone else was, figured it out even before Derek did. Tells Stiles how he didn’t think it was fair to say anything to him, not while Stiles was still in school on the other side of the country. Tells him that he needed some time to figure out what his life was without Braeden anyway, then he could find out if Stiles felt the same, if they could ever be something.

Tells Stiles that he planned to tell him once Stiles was back in California, that he didn’t plan to see Stiles after his graduation, didn’t even want him to know he was there, but that he couldn’t help it, that he had to.

Tells stiles how hard it was when they found out Stiles wasn’t coming home, how he drove to the airport a dozen different times, ready to get on a plane and track Stiles down by scent alone if he had to, how Scott had to talk him out of it, how he had to talk Scott out of doing the exact same thing just as many times. Tells Stiles how they, along with his dad, tracked his location from the postcards he sent, how Lydia and Danny tried to find a pattern in his movements but could never discern one. Tells Stiles how the pack was ready to burn the world down to find him when Stiles finally called.

Tells Stiles how happy he was when he found out Stiles was coming home, how he couldn’t get out of bed for days when Scott told him it would be best if he stayed away for awhile, how it took every ounce of strength he had to do it, and then again to walk away from Stiles in the grocery store, but that he was willing if it meant Stiles was getting better, that he was going to be okay. Tells Stiles that now he gets why Scott wanted him to stay away, that Scott was right, but that it hurt every single day, that it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Tells Stiles that he’s the most infuriating person he’s ever met, that not a day has gone by in the eight years they’ve known each other that Stiles didn’t get under his skin, one way or another, that sometimes he wants to kill him, but that at any given moment he’d kill _for_ him. Tells Stiles that he knows he cheats at Scrabble, that he doesn’t care, that he’d let him win every single game, every single fight, let him win it all, if it’d make Stiles happy.

Tells Stiles that he loves him, that he’s sorry he didn’t figure it out sooner.

They take their relationship slow- as slow as you can take a relationship with someone you know that well and have been in love with for that long- but they don’t want to ruin it, don’t want to mess it up, not again; so they don’t jump head first in to any of it. Stiles doesn’t move in with Derek, not for a long while, and they don’t sleep together at first- at least not in a way that involves anything more than cuddling. They don’t spend a lot of the time at the loft, there’s too much privacy, too much temptation. Instead they hang out at Scott and Stiles’ place, do things like fill out the crossword puzzle in the paper, cook dinner for Scott and the rest of the pack, play Scrabble- Stiles cheating so that he can spell out all the dirty words.

They continue to talk about the darkness around Stiles’ heart, never get to a point where they stop talking about it; it’s always there, always threatening to break through, but between Scott and the rest of the pack, there’s enough support to get through it.

After a few months- months of holding back, months of uncomfortable erections and unbelievable sexual frustration- they break their no sex rule. Kissing frantically, they start pulling off each other’s clothes and when they’re both naked, they catch themselves, stop and talk about it; ultimately decide that it’s time, that they are ready. Derek admits that he hasn’t been with a man since he was living in New York and Stiles realizes that he’s never topped a guy before, wants Derek to be his first. They agree to figure it out together. By the time Stiles is finally sliding in- Derek on his back, prepped and ready- they’re both trembling, holding on to each other like they’re afraid to let go. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at the same time, feels _right_ \- in a way that sex hasn’t for Stiles in a very long time- and when he starts moving his hips, he feels the tears start to well up, does his best to hold them back but when he sees Derek’s eyes watering too, he can’t help it. The tears start to fall as he kisses Derek, tells him he loves him over and over again, all the while thrusting. They don’t last long but it doesn’t matter, it’s still exactly what they needed, what _he_ needed. Stiles would even call it _making love_ if that wasn’t such an obnoxious thing to say.

Once they let their relationship get physical, they work hard not to let everything else get eclipsed by the sex. Stiles enrolls in a Masters program at CSU San Francisco and Derek starts to renovate the loft- redo it completely to fit their new life.

They continue to marathon old teen dramas- start on _Felicity,_ then _Party of Five._ Nobody else gets it, but it doesn’t matter- it’s them, it’s their thing, and every time they cycle back to _Dawson’s Creek_ and Pacey tells Joey that being in love with her is enough and Joey tells him that she doesn’t want to be let off the hook, Stiles gets a little teary-eyed. No matter how many years pass, the memory of Derek admitting that he loves him always gets to him, always gives him butterflies.

By the time they’re trying to figure out what to say in their wedding vows, Stiles has a list a mile long of all the things he loves about Derek, and not just the big things that’s he kind of always known, but the little things too- like the way Derek’s right sock always scrunches down to his ankle for no discernible reason whatsoever; and how Derek is _not_ a morning person, not by any stretch of the imagination; and the way that when he’s especially tired and Stiles picks on him, he gets aggressively affectionate- herds Stiles to the couch and pushes him down onto his stomach, then climbs on top of him, and just.. lays there, just buries his nose in Stiles’ neck and lays on him until he feels better; and that he can always tell when Derek’s turned on by the way that, on his right hand, he runs the pad of his thumb over the tips of his fingernails, subconsciously making sure his claws aren’t out- a habit he developed when he was a hormonal teenager and had trouble controlling the shift; loves the way that Derek does it while watching Stiles do the most mundane things, like trying to figure out how the hell to fill out his taxes or stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.

And Stiles loves the infuriating things about Derek too- like the way he steals the covers even though he’s basically a fucking furnace already; or the way he _never_ remembers to buy milk, even if it’s on the list; or the way he purposefully makes inaccurate _Stars Wars_ references just to piss Stiles off.

Or the way that for eight years, Derek just _stood_ there, he just stood there and stole Stiles’ heart, without even knowing it, without Stiles even knowing it, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Stiles; he wouldn’t trade it for anything, wouldn’t take back a single moment that brought him to this point because gun to his head, he’d do it all again, he’d choose Derek every single time.

_No regrets._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU WANT THE HAPPY ENDING.

 

 

 

Stiles is sitting in his office, getting absolutely no work done, thinking about the little pink booties he saw at the store the other day, thinking about what it would be like to have some of those lying around the house.

He’s absently thumbing at his wedding ring, imagining what Derek would look like holding a pair, when he gets a frantic call from Scott.

“ _Stiles, you need to get to the hospital right now. Derek’s been in an accident._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't condone any of the behavior in this story (not even how Scott handles the situation necessarily). And I think it's extremely unhealthy to have an all-consuming love like that but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing about it. Or reading about it.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)


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